


Leverage

by plsnskanks (orphan_account)



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/plsnskanks
Summary: In which Tord tries Edd's patience





	Leverage

**Author's Note:**

> Had some personal issues, took down fics, was originally gonna take a long break, decided not to. Old fics will go up again soon. Writing under this pseud permanently at least for ew. Also I am going to break up my fics more and stop posting chapter fics that update as much. I dont like anyone fic getting a lot of notoriety.

“Sign the doc, Tord,” Edd has his face in his hands. He’s got a sweaty little omega apparently halfway into heat in front of him and all he needs so they can both leave this stupid room is for that aforementioned omega to sign the doc. Write his name. It’s under ten letters. Edd would let him use his blood as ink at this point, if Tord would just sign the doc.

“I acknowledge your request, now I ask you do the same,” Tord says as he leans across the table with a shit eating grin.

“I am not fucking you on the table. Sign the fucking doc, Tord.”

Tord pouts. Just out a fat lip and pouts at him. With half his face burned off and a metal arm. It isn’t convincing at all is the bottom line.

“Tord we haven’t got all day.”

“Correction! You. You haven’t got all day,” Tord says looking so smug Edd could put him through a window right about now. “You have territory to redistribute, displaced people to find shelter for, and entire empire to dismantle. I just have to sign this document. I could do that tomorrow. Or next week. Or ten minutes from now while you have a nice cigar after you fuck me on this here table.”

Edd feels his eye twitch. It’s been doing that a lot lately. Coincidently, he has also been around Tord a lot lately.

“Actually maybe less than ten minutes, I hear you happen to have a habit of coming early if you’re pissed off,” Tord said, propping his chin in his hands.

“How do you-,” Edd stops himself before he confirms that libelous slander.

“Other green leader gets really chatty when you get on the subject of things ‘Edd doesn’t want me to tell you but fuck him’. Call it omega talk.”  
Edd’s going to go make sure there’s only one green leader after this. See if he unbans diet cola. 

“Tord, you’re a war criminal. You’re going to stand trial, and we are going try, I repeat try, to not give you the death penalty. You aren’t in the place to be making demands.”

“What if I told you there’s a WMD rigged under one of the capital buildings where you are currently housing displaced refugees? Would that motivate you?” Edd thinks he’s joking. If he knows anything and everything about Tord, he’s joking. But he’s got that dead serious look on his face, and the scarred half of it doesn’t convey his tells so well anymore.

Edd is scared he is not joking. For all of two seconds. Then he’s pissed.

“Is that threat? This isn’t a game here. This isn’t a joke to play with people’s lives,” Edd says as he reaches across the table to grab Tord by the front of his red sweater. Tord looks at him, amused. That’s when Edd loses it. It was an eight year war. People fought and people died for this. And here Tord was still looking at everyone around him as if they were so weak and feeble he could crush them underfoot.

He would show him otherwise.

“We were at war, Edd, what else do you call that? You move individuals around like pawns and when a couple die you go, “oh whoops my bad” pat a couple shoulders and then go home and sleep just fine at night,” Tord says and he’s staring him down with his one good eye, this little circle of silver that’s as hard as the world they live in. “So are you going to give me what I want, or let a bunch of innocent people die for no good reason?”

You know what? Fine. He can have what he wants. Edd lets go of his sweater, “Take off your clothes.” 

He tries to hide the amount of self-loathing in his voice. Tord looks at him and smiles looking so self-satisfied it makes Edd’s skin crawl.

He takes off his jacket and Edd gets a good look at his scarred body. His eyes zero in on Tord’s arm.

“It’s rude to stare like that, Edd old pal,” Tord says as he feels Edd’s eyes on him. “Don’t worry, they nerfed the force ouput to virtually null. I can barely pick up an apple with this sort of grip much less crush your windpipe. You however, I bet you could do that to me if you wanted,” Tord said giving Edd’s hands a long lingering look.

They’re calloused and rough from years of training, of long hikes, of handling debris, sometimes still smoldering as they sort through the wreckage Tord left in his wake. They are a direct result of his actions, of his regime, of his reckless quest for his idea of perfections.

So it’s no surprise, that like all other things Tord has created, they come around to bite their maker. Tord grins as Edd’s hands wrap around his throat and he is shoved up against the wall. Edd admittedly, wants to sock him one in the gut right there. He’s got a half blind, essentially one armed omega in between his two hands, and he wants nothing more than to make him bleed.

The only thing that stops him is that he knows it is what Tord wants him to want. And he’s just spent eight long years playing into Tord’s hands and he is done with that. Done with these mind games. Tord can be the one to feel the brunt of someone pulling the strings for once.

Edd loosens his grip and moves a hand down Tord’s chest slowly, running feather light touches down across his stomach and then lower. He ghosts a hand around Tord’s dick and bypasses that to dip even lower. 

Suddenly the idea of fucking Tord is very appealing. It’s not because Tord is an omega that is probably halfway into heat. It’s not because Edd himself can’t remember the last fuck he had with someone who at least didn’t outwardly express how much they hated his guts. It isn’t even because it will get Tord to sign the fucking document so he can go home.

It’s because this feels like the only kind of victory that Edd will ever be able to get single handedly over Tord.

Here, divested of his title, his empire, his legacy, Tord probably couldn’t get much lower. He’s a drowning man and Edd wants to shove his head right back under the surface and watch him struggle. Because for eight long years, he’s been the drowning man, while Tord has sat and watched.

Edd wants to know what he looks like when he has to struggle.

He pushes Tord up into the desk, pressing his clothed bulge into Tord’s cunt. He grips him by his upper thighs and hoists him onto the desk, swiping blindly to clear it of papers. The last thing they need is to turn in the treaty with a cum stain on it.

He then forces Tords legs apart and before he gets going Edd throws one look up to Tord. Tord has the height advantage sitting on the desk, Edd realizes. He looks down at him and gives him that same jagged little cut of a smile that always rips right throw any semblance of moral strength Edd has.

Because it’s Tord. The guy he’s always been friends with, but always been at odds with as well. They want the same, or at least, very similar things and are willing to beat each other bloody for them. They are probably more alike than Edd will every realize or admit, and it’s that thought Edd vigorously pushes away as he shoves Tord down on the desk, pinning him by his throat.

He starts to grind himself against Tord, feeling the friction, blessed friction as he just ruts against him. Tord meanwhile is squirming in his grip, letting out quiet gasps as Edd rubs himself against his cunt. He unzips his pants when he decides the indirect contact is not enough. Then he starts to rub himself against Tord’s cunt directly, spreading it with his fingers.

He can feel Tord swallow and breath out sharply as he holds him down. He isn’t aiming to choke him, just show him who is in power. If he didn’t want Tord to breath, he wouldn’t be, and Tord knows that. He could have had him shot on sight. But he wanted to do it the honorable way. He wasn’t going to have some firing squad of frontline fresh meat execute his enemy.

He wasn’t Tord. There was no job too low or too dirty that Edd wouldn’t dredge up and do himself. He wouldn’t wipe the blood of his enemy off on other people.

He tightens his grip just a bit more though and maybe Tord’s breaths get a bit more wheezy and maybe Edd notes that but doesn’t resolve to do anything about it. Instead what he does do is move his hand to grip Tord tightly, putting a thumb on his slit and wiping at some of the precum accruing there.

He jams it into Tord’s gasping mouth and then wipes the resulting spittle on his cheek. Finally he lets Tord up. He releases his throat and pulls his hand back, looking at the harshly breathing form. 

“You wanna sign the doc now?” Edd figures it can’t hurt to try. Maybe Tord won’t make this into a bigger shit show than it already is.

“If I sign the doc right now, I sign half my name, because you’ve only done half of our deal. I’ll let you pick which half I sign though,” Tord says, not bothering to raise himself to look at Edd. Edd doesn’t understand how a man like this goes eight years without one of his soldiers getting sick of his shit and opting to shoot him in the face.

“Fine, other alternative is for you to beg,” Edd says as he pulls Tord closer to him. He reaches for the chair behind him with his foot, hooking his ankle around it and pulling it under him, sitting down with Tord in his lap. He pushes him off and Tord is left standing with an erection  
Not a hint of shame or embarrassment on his features. He just stands, hips akimbo looking at Edd with a patient expression.

“Beg? For you? Okay, want me to call you daddy too?”

“Please do not.”

“Alright daddy, please fuck me up my naughty hole, I’ve been aching for someone to do it, and none of my soldiers are big enough,” Tord finishes off his sentence with a long and loud pornographic moan. He bends forward with his elbows on the desk thrusting his ass out to Edd and wagging it a bit.

“How did people ever listen to your commands?” 

“I did the same thing but in uniform, it garnered me the utmost respect,” Tord smiled. He looked over his shoulder at Edd. “So tell me, do you make Edua-.”

That’s all he gets out before Edd has his face mashed against the desk and his cock halfway in. He’s pulling Tord back to meet his first thrust, pushing in. There’s slick all over Tord’s thighs and Edd is only just noticing it now that he is skin to skin with him

How did he maintain his composure so well when he was practically oozing slick and swimming in it? Edd gets himself all the way in and Tord is quiet for a moment. Edd notes the pregnant pause, and maybe he should ask if Tord is okay. If he needs a minute.

Maybe he should. But he doesn’t. Instead he pushes Tord’s head down harder against the desk, which seems to get Tord to push his ass back at him harder in turn. Edd slams in and Tord snaps his head back in return and Edd regrets the position he chose. He wants to see this. He wants to see Tord’s face.

He pulls out and flips Tord over and before Tord can open his mouth to complain Edd is pushing back in, shoving himself up and in and Tord is reacting under him. Actually reacting. His mouth is open and drool is running out the corner, just a tiny bit. His hands, both of them are curled into fists, one at his side and one on his chest. 

There’s a flush making its way down his neck and Tord looks distressed and needy on a whole slew of levels. It’s satisfying. It drives Edd to push in harder and use his hand to rub at Tord’s dick. He watches and feels Tord getting tighter and tighter, clenching down on him, working him up.

Edd wants to keep going, to keep losing himself in this moment. But he doesn’t, he stops. Halts right when he can feel his peak coming. He leans in close, getting almost nose to nose with Tord.

“I want you to beg,” He says, putting all his emphasis on the last word. He wants to hear it, seriously, he wants to hear Tord’s voice crack and break, to feel it in the tone. That he’s won. That he is the victor. That Tord will never do this sort of thing again. He wants that confirmation.

“You will never get that from me no matter how hard you try,” Tord says, following the statement with a laugh. It comes out forced and creaky but it’s there and it’s like pouring gasoline and striking the match. Edd lets out a snarl, it barely sounds human and now he really is choking Tord as he fucks him. Pushing in and out and watching him struggle to breath and its, and its….

It’s never going to be satisfying. He watches that hard grey moon as it watches him back and there is no give. There is no give and there will never be any, even when Tord is staring him down in his way to the gallows, with the noose around his neck.

Edd can see that now. He gives in and lets himself take what he wants, what he wants that Tord will allow him. He pushes and pulls and his fingers are still around Tord’s neck and he doesn’t even try to pull his hands off his neck.

Edd lets him go and Tord cums across his stomach as he takes in his first breath of a little while. Edd shoves himself up all the way in and cums deep in Tord, because it feels good, and it feels like the only sort of claim he will ever be able to stake in this sort of thing.

Edd pulls out and sits back into the chair, leaving Tord panting against the desk. He looks at the scattered papers on the floor and gets up to pick the cover page, the only one that really matters in all this. He opens the desk drawer, pulls out a pen and puts in Tord’s hand. 

“Sign it.”

Tord does. It’s so indistinguishable that Edd could have just scribbled it himself. It’s just a mass of circular scribbles. Edd looks at it and he can feel the migraine coming on.

“Alright, now tell me how to deactivate the WMD.”

Tord laughs and it makes Edd feel like he has just dumped scalding water all over his body. The sound grates at every nerve in his body. Then he looks at Tord to see he is actually crying out of his good eye. Wiping tears away. What the fuck.

“Edd, oh my god, if I had had WMD’s this war would have been over by now in my favor! I wouldn’t be sneaking them under buildings after the war is already finished,” Tord continues to laugh for a bit, before settling down.

“Ach no, of course not. I’d have targeted your central ammunition supply, which coincidently is in range of the city where we used to live. You fault me for being careless. Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to shit where you eat?”

“Said the man encouraging me to fuck him in his own office.”

“Do as I say not as I do,” Tord said wagging his finger at Edd. Edd rolled his eyes. A wanted criminal set to stand trial and he could still drive him up a wall like absolutely no other. Truly Tord was peerless when it came to finding a way under people’s skin.

“Right. Well for now, you do as I say, so get up, put some pants on, and I’m going to escort you back to your cell,” Edd said, kicking the crumpled heap of clothing over to Tord. Tord shrugged and walked over to the pants, back facing Edd. He bent over and Edd got an eyeful of his cum leaking out of Tord’s cunt.

Lovely.

Tord turned around, and pretended to look shocked, widening his eye in surprise and putting a hand to his cheek.

“Oh? Did I flash you? Pardon me. How very unladylike,” He then proceeded to roughly jam his leg through his pants and throw on his jacket.

As Edd watches him pull on his clothes it hits him that Tord has just gotten everything he wanted when he had absolutely no bargaining power to begin with. He had no political advantage, no physical advantage, nothing. Yet he still walks out king and Edd’s the one with a dint in his pride. Edd’s the one who felt like he had little choice in his actions. He watches Tord start to walk towards the door, throwing him a lopsided grin as he stalks in front of Edd.

Edd pulls out his keys and escorts Tord to his cell. They don’t talk. Tord whistles some offbeat tune that Edd thinks might be a Russian folk song. Its low notes bounce off the hallways and echo down on repeat for what feels like ages.

He’s set to stand trial tomorrow.

Edd’s not entirely sure he’ll be pleased with the outcome.

**Author's Note:**

> as always come over to say hi @plsnskanks.tumblr.com. Please dont make requests in the comments here, I will ignore them from now on. Send an anon ask on my blog when they open again.


End file.
